


Of Ash and Dust

by f0xface



Category: Avenged Sevenfold
Genre: F/M, Supernatural Elements, Witchcraft, strigoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 14:17:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13342986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f0xface/pseuds/f0xface
Summary: The story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now.





	Of Ash and Dust

It was the hot, fiery summer of nineteen sixty-seven that saw his heart beat for its final time.

It was the summer of love. The year the Beatles visited for the very first time.

It was the year a man of stature would be turned into a creature of the night.

-*-

Whatever _it_ was, Matthew Sanders had it in spades; a sweet baby face that could turn the most ignorant of heads, charisma, and a body that was carved by the gods themselves.

Women wanted to be with him, men wanted to _be_ him.

Coming from a working class family, he didn’t have much to call his own, but what he did have was unrivalled confidence and cunning wits. He drank whiskey, his poison of choice, ate the finest of foods, and gambled. And all on someone else’s dime. Often found with a lady on his arm, he lived a life of sin.

It was one such night of sin, he and his friends laughing over drinks at the local tavern, that his life took an unexpected turn.

Matthew, ever the one for a challenge, was dared to seduce the local virgin – a dare he readily accepted. All gathered around him, lifted their jars of ale into the air and cheered him on. There were whispers of the young virgin’s involvement with witchcraft, rumours either embraced and spread, or dismissed. Whether true or false, Matthew paid the rumours no mind. He had a bet to win.

And so knowing where she lived, he stopped by after closing hours and turned on the charm.

-*-

Nancy Barkridge was a quiet individual, a loner to those who didn’t know her, and worse to those who didn’t understand her. She had never had a friend, had never known the kindness most took for granted, and because of this, she found herself rather flummoxed to find a man at her door, and more so confused that it should be Matthew Sanders of all people.

Guarded at first, she was soon swept away by his dimpled smile and gentle words. Relief at finally being accepted outweighed the niggling doubt.

And as so many before her, she fell for his act.

She was saddened to find her bed empty the next morning, saddened to think that she had so readily given her maidenhood away. The feeling, however, was rapidly replaced with elation.

“A man wanted me! All of me!” Her smile was that of a love-smitten girl, her cheeks dusky-pink at the reminder of what they had done, what she had allowed him to do. She danced about her room, clutching linens to her chest as if they were a silent partner.

Matthew, too, had a spring to his step as he wandered through the village, excited to brag to his friends and collect on the bet. They crowded around him as if he were their king. Their eyes wide with wonder and envy as he regaled them with the sordid details of his night.

“Guys, she was so desperate to have someone in her bed, she let me do whatever I wanted to her!” He puffed out his chest and went on his merry way, the night just another like so many in his life. Great while it lasted, but very rapidly forgotten.

-*-

Nancy made her weekly trip to the local greengrocers, wishing passers-by a good morning, and singing softly to the wildlife. Half way through her shop, she heard the whispers, frowned at the guffaws that echoed at her back, and tried her best to ignore the people pointing and staring at her. The village was small, news travelled fast. Old ladies tutted, noses in the air. Menfolk leered after her, winking and smiling like they stood a chance.

Her stomach dropped, realisation setting in. She abandoned her basket of shopping and fled the small store. Half way to her home, she ran into a friend of Matthew’s, fell to the ground with a startled yelp. The young man offered her his hand, helped her to her feet, and grinned as recognition lit up his face, “You’re Matty’s latest squeeze!”

Shoulders hunched, she tried to hide her face behind her long, dark tresses. “I think you must be mistaken–”

“No, no, he told us everything!” With a cheeky grin, the man waggled his eyebrows and made a lewd gesture with his hips.

Pushing passed him, Nancy fled with tears streaming down her face. Eternally hurt, and mortified, she vowed retribution on Matthew Sanders, and anyone else who stood in her way.

It wasn’t long before the time to strike presented itself.

At one with the shadows outside the tavern, she watched him sway and wobble passed her, a half-empty mug of ale in one hand, and a whore attached to the other. He didn’t bat an eyelid at her, just kept on stumbling by. That it hurt, was no surprise, a deep knot in her chest that she used to fuel her rage, used to centre her writhing thoughts as she followed him, her voice a low mutter on the wind.

She waited for him to enter his home, waited as the two inside grew acquainted. That he whispered those same sweet nothings into the ears of his newest conquest, only stoked the fire.

It was then that she pounced.

She spat whispered words at his door, ignored it as it crumpled at her feet, turned to splinters and dust in her wake. The staircase was narrow, set in the middle of the quaint two up, two down. It was no doubt left to him by his parents, its décor simple but heavy on the mother-tones. Small and straight forward, she found her way easily, rounded the first corner and burst into his bedroom.

She watched them scatter, blankets shuffled and tightened around naked forms. The rage within her chest swelled as the woman screamed, as she cried at her to get out, begged of Matthew to send her away.

“Whore!” she snarled, flicked her hand and relished in the snap of her neck, relished in the terror that settled over Matthew’s features. She watched as he scrambled out of the bed, fell to his knees in his haste to escape. Nancy stood over his quivering form, and stared him down.

“Please! Don’t hurt me!”

She laughed, a deep, maniacal cackle, and rolled her eyes as he begged for his life, as the front of his briefs grew damp.

“You don’t deserve to be spared. You’re a snake, a parasite! You will crave the touch of others, but you shall never be fulfilled. You will never feel whole. You will _never_ know love. Crave, gorge, feast. You will always be as your heart is now - Hollow.”

She spread her fingers, held them over his whimpering form, and cursed him for all eternity.

-*-

As the decades passed, Matthew saw the people he loved wither away. Reminded of the witch’s curse, he chose to live his life in the shadows, alone, and survived on vagrants and ladies of the night.

It was after one such feed, another unwilling donor, that he made a decision. He would stop wallowing in his self-pity, now tired of everything in his grasp feeling empty and hollow, and he would face what he had done. To do so meant going back, back to where it all began.

What he found, however, once he finally got there, was a shell of the town he’d grown up in. The homes and shops stood empty, _for sale_ signs hanging from hinges that squeaked and squealed in the wind – a noise that scratched at his ears and set a headache forming behind his eyes.

He moved through the lanes, followed the well-worn path to his childhood home, and found it gone, replaced by a rundown building with words scribbled across its front; “Closing down sale. Everything must go!”

Turning on his heel, he headed for the woods, determined to find the witch who made him into an empty shell. He searched high and low, for hours, but his efforts were fruitless. There was nothing but fields and trees, swaying in the wind. For one small moment, he thought they were welcoming him home, but the storm picked up and they cracked under the torrent of rain.

Matthew found a stump to rest on, to sit and think, and to wait for the storm to pass. He leant back, crossed his ankles, closed his eyes, and thought of better times.

-*-

As the day slowly passed, Matthew wandered the area that was once so familiar. Everything felt different, out of place and somehow hostile. He had spent hours searching, had spent hours failing to find.

With exhausted determination, he trekked through the overgrown grass, picking weeds and stray branches off of himself, until he once again found the edge of the woods. Again, he found it empty. Again, hope was a bitter thing in his mouth. He truly was doomed to an eternity of solitude.

He felt faint, starvation a twisting blade in his gut. It drove him to desperation, crazed for something, _anything_ , to come his way. It was only then that he heard her song. The air was clear now, birds flying above in quiet unison, bees buzzing about their chosen flowers. Her song was carried on the breeze, and lead him straight to her. Even lost in his hunger, Matthew could not fathom such beauty.

She knelt, a collection of wild flowers in her lap. The serenity that surrounded her drove him to swallow, dragged hot nails down his throat and left him struggling to breathe. Hair like pale silk shimmered in the soft breeze and enticed him to touch. The calmness of her singing, her innocent beauty - so beautiful - set a fire in his chest, his lifeless heart giving one slow and tired thump. The sudden thrum of it startled a gasp from him, the sound torn between pain and disbelief.

The noise was enough to break the calm, her head shooting up in his direction. And seeing him standing in her little meadow, blood-crazed and obviously staring, she screamed.

It alone froze him where he stood, left him powerless to stop her as in her rush to flea him, she sent her flowers flying. He watched them scatter, forgotten again on the grassy earth, and cursed himself.

"Wait," his voice betrayed him, sounded thin and broken to his ears. "I would only know your name!"

She slowed her escape, curiosity burning low in her belly. Curious, yes, but also suspicious. She stared him down, waited for the trick, but when nothing changed, when warmth replaced the startled cold, she smiled, urged on by something she didn't understand. "Luna. I am Luna."

And so struck by the kindness of her voice, Matthew never saw her leave.

-*-

He said her name like a mantra on his way back through the woods, found he liked the way it sounded on his tongue. Remembering his old hideout, he jogged through forest and field, and hoped it was still there, still standing. It was rundown, a shack now but it would suffice. The door came away in his hands as he stepped inside, threatened to crumble as he set it back into place. The smell of damp wood and musty air greeted him, tugged at distant memories.

Shrugging off his overcoat, he found an overturned rock to sit on and surveyed his surroundings. He found the shattered remains of a mirror, looked himself over in the shards and sighed. No wonder Luna had run away from him. Dishevelled and dirty with sweat and grime, he had let himself go.

Set on proving himself to her, of winning her heart, Matthew kicked off his boots and set about making himself presentable. He found it easy to slip into a routine, found the normalcy of washing himself, of shaving, calming.

And for the first time in over fifty years, he smiled.

-*-

Hunting, a requirement of his cursed life, was not as easy as he had thought it might be. The woods were dense with brush and old trees, the animals swift and quick to flight, but he learned, adapted. Mathew had always preferred hunting in his feline form, preferred the agility, the heightened senses.

It was the night of the full moon, his belly full, when he caught her scent, the silky-sweet of spun cotton candy from the fair. He filled his lungs of it, followed it to the edge of a vast clearing. Settling in the shadows, he watched, waited, wandered forward with a swishing tail as she sang and danced in circles.

Sensing a presence, she looked out into the night, spotted the sleek, black cat watching her, and smiled, called him over as she settled on her knees.

“Oh, what a gorgeous creature you are. Where have you come from?” Scratching between his ears, she checked him over, but found no collar.

Matthew purred at the attention, wound around her legs as she stood. He sat before her and took in every detail, from her bright, green eyes to the way she twirled her hair. Whiskers sprung forward, ears pricked, he meowed at her, accepted a few more moments of her coddling pats, and, sated on her touch, he turned and fled.

The next night, after feeding on a herd of deer, he visited her as himself. With a basket of fruit he had stolen from a neighbouring village and a belly full of animal blood – he never wanted his hunger to be uncontrollable around her – he knocked at her door.

Surprised to find him on her doorstep, she covered her startled gape with a dainty hand, her eyes wide with fear.

“I won’t hurt you, I promise.” He stepped back, raised his free hand and tried to look as reassuring as he possibly could. He offered her the basket, smiled and shrugged nervously, “I thought you might be hungry.”

She accepted, shyly, and so started their dance.

-*-

As the months passed them by, their friendship grew and blossomed. Matthew brought her more food, helped her with odd jobs around her home, while she tamed his mannerisms, was patient with him as he learned again what it was to be human. He never told her, and she never asked. It was enough for him, simply to see her happy.

Until one night, when keeping his secret was no longer an easy feat.

The light had begun to fade, the sun lost behind the dip of hills and the thick of trees. He was agitated, his hunt going poorly as he prowled the woods. Tired of the lies, he set a slow run towards her, promised himself that he’d finally tell her who he was, what he was.

Lost in his head, in the night he hoped to have, he missed the shift in terrain, tumbled in his step and fell. The incline was short, but sharp, spilled him onto harsh stones and muddy earth. If any good came from the fall, it was that he wasn’t the only beast to fall.

Not as full as he would like, he shook as much of the mess off as he could and ran to Luna’s home, a blur of motion through the trees.

Luna found him waiting for her at the bottom of the garden, hair mused and skin scraped and muddy. She didn’t question him, simply smiled and lead him into her home, filled a bath for him and left him to wash.

Clad in just a towel, steam rising from his now clean body, Matthew left the bathroom, wandered her home and found her waiting for him in a small living room. She stood, approached him with a glass of wine and a shy smile. The table behind her was layered with food, fruits and pastries and different types of cheeses.

Hesitant, he accepted the glass, accepted her hand, and allowed her to lead him to the table. He welcomed her admiring looks, the green of her eyes dark with attraction. The knowledge that he caused that look, caused the heat in her cheeks, set a warm curl in his belly, dragged at the dregs of his confidence.

They talked for hours, talked about her, her life growing up. He found it fascinating that she was named after a goddess, found it charming that she had a little moon tattooed on her shoulder blade. The wine had warmed their blood, had set a blush burning in her cheeks as she smiled at him, a smile that left him feeling like a teenager in love.

He ducked forward, placed a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth, and smiled when she giggled, when she touched her palm to his cheek and kissed him back. The kiss turned into something deeper, into something more.

He followed her as she laid down, leaned over her and ran his eyes over the length of her body. She was beautiful in a way she had no right to be, enticing in a way he couldn’t deny wanting. He drank her in, fell under her spell, went willingly as she pulled him over her, wrapped him in her arms, her legs.

He forgot himself, drunk on lust. She moaned under him, leaned into his touch, whimpered for more. As their grasps grew more desperate, as primal instinct took over, he gripped at her sides, dragged her as close as he could and nipped at her jaw.

“Matthew,” she whispered, arched into him on a sigh.

Lost, dragged under by need, he growled lowly, incisors elongating, and bit, just slightly, just enough to spill blood.

Screaming, Luna shoved him away, touched her fingers to her throat and cried out at the red that stained her skin.

Seeing the fear, the betrayal on her face, Matthew shook his head, stuttered and fought over his words, “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t–”

“Don’t!” she shouted, eyes ablaze as she hurriedly covered herself up. Standing, she squared her shoulders, held her head high. Blind as she might have been, she was no fool. “I know who you are, what you are. I know your story, what you did. My great-grandmother died a lonely death because of your actions!”

Mortified, Matthew shook his head, wondered how he hadn’t noticed the spell books, the tarot cards, the candles and jars. He looked up to her, pleaded with his heart in his hands, “Luna, please.”

“Get out.”

“I won’t,” Matthew started, afraid that he’d be turned away, left to his fate. He met her eyes, wilted under her scowl. “I can’t leave here knowing what waits for me beyond these walls. I’ve spent too long dying in the shadows without an end in sight. I’ve been hollow too long, forced to live with this emptiness inside of me for a mistake I made in my youth. I’m sorry for what I did to Nancy, to your great-grandmother. I’m truly sorry, but I can’t do this anymore. Please, I need you to help end my suffering, in whatever way you see fit.”

Startled by what he asked of her, but guarded against any tricks, she refused him, sliced her hand through the space between them. “I can’t do that. I won’t.”

Pain etched into his face, dragged down on his features. “I’m begging you, Luna. If you felt anything for me, feel anything, you’ll help me now. I can’t keep doing this.”

She studied him for several long minutes, hated the way her heart broke, the way her hands shook. He had been nothing but kind to her, how could she hate him now? Sighing, she let her eyes close, turned inward, focused on the magic within her, and called to her goddess for guidance.

_Forgive._

Smiling sadly, she lifted her hands, palms out, and met his gaze, “Should you ever seek the warmth of the sun again, know that it will burn you, and turn you to nothing more than ash.”

She turned away, could not afford to show her tears, her pain.

He left her peaceful home, a weight lifted from his shoulders, his soul. He approached the dawn, welcomed the burn with the knowledge that she had felt enough for him to spare him.

And as the sun rose, it showered his body with warmth, turned his flesh to ash, and granted him peace.


End file.
